Paul and Bob found Para quite a good-sized city, but on very low ground. Along the docks of the mighty river were many kinds of boats and ships, from stately ocean-liners to the tub-like barges used to float down from Bolivia great cargoes of raw rubber. There were numerous schooners unloading vegetables and fruit, and countless dugouts paddled by natives. Cargadores, in their bare feet, were carrying goods in and out of the various large craft, supporting the heaviest of bundles on their bare heads. Their faces were all shades of white, brown, and black. Among them were negroes from Jamaica, and Spaniards, Portuguese, and mulattoes from all parts of Brazil. The business buildings were three and four stories high, and built close to the sidewalks along narrow streets. Their walls, the boys noticed as they crowded their way along, were of all colors, some being faced with blue, yellow, and green porcelain tiles. By asking questions they found the telegraph office, and there sent the message to Mr. Giddings at Panama, requesting that the helium-gas be sent to Nukahiva by fastest boat. They also wired a report of their progress. They had by this time another roll of exposed kodak films, and this was mailed to the _Daily Independent_. No sooner had they reappeared from the post-office than they were once more besieged with peddlers asking them to make a purchase of their wares. Paul and Bob stopped when they saw some particularly luscious-looking oranges and bananas, and were surprised upon asking the price to find that they could have a dozen of each kind for the value of five cents; and oh! how sweet and juicy they were when they sank a tooth into them. They bought some baked goods in a little shop, and as they emerged an old man with a parrot on one shoulder and a small monkey on the other blocked their pathway, and begged them to look at "nice parryote, nice monk." They shook their heads, when they saw other vendors crowding forward, and were about to push by when the monkey sprang nimbly upon Paul's own shoulder, snatched off his cap, shook it in front of his eyes, and put it back in place again. Paul and Bob both laughed, and harder yet as the bright little animal shot a paw into Paul's pocket and adroitly drew out a Brazilian gold coin called a milreis, worth about fifty-four cents in American money. "You give five milreis, me give monk," said the old mulatto. Paul shook his head. "You give four milreis, me give monk." "No; that's more than I have of these coins." "You give three milreis, me give--" "Only have two of them left," said Paul. "You give two milreis, take monk." "It's a bargain," laughed Paul. And he fished another of the coins out of his pocket, accepted the end of the rope tied to the monkey, and went off with Bob, his newly-acquired pet still contentedly occupying his shoulder.